Somebody That I Used to Know
by angusl
Summary: Chapter story, set before The Hunger Games trilogy, about how Clove transformed throughout the brief year of her roller-coaster life. From how she viewed the Games, to really being a participant in it.Ｒ Review please, and enjoy. General Disclaimer: I own nothing of the books... They're real good. Though I guess I own my own work.
1. The Beginning

I ran between the bushes and stumps, trying my best not to get tripped. Tree shades and high, towering rocks enclosed into a maze, with the thick mist forming an eerie air to everything. Darkness engulfed the last dim of light, and all that remained of my weak sanity and conscious, both on the very verge of snapping. I stumbled on a tree root, and found myself landing on a floor of foliage and subtle rocks. I tried to pull myself together, shaking my head in attempt of also doing so to the fatigue devouring me and once again tripped, lapsing into unconsciousness.

Thoughts? I'm from Panem. I'm from District 2. My name is Clove.

"Clove! Get up!" I startled at my mother's voice, re-gaining vitality from the past excruciating hours of insomnia due to a nightmare of me in the Games. The 73rd Hunger Games just passed, and it was definitely disturbing as ever. I couldn't remember the Victor's district, much less his or her name, though I'm quite sure that person's not from 2, despite a vaguely recollection rang a bell that the Victor's a girl from the Career Pack. And no matter how hard I had tried to paralyze myself and turn a deaf ear to all the talks and chatters, I couldn't help but no know that the final victim was killed by getting constant blows by a brick the Victor holding mercilessly.

"Clove!" Mother yelled once more, much louder and more intimidating. A mental voice informed that a few minutes had passed with that sitting idly on the bed, and I swung myself out onto the floor and got into the living room. Today's the day for the Victor's Parade, which basically can be paraphrased as 'Murder-Glorifying Parade', and mom made a rather more decent breakfast out of pieces of fruit and nuts served with small helpings of bread. Even though in District 2, perhaps more widely known as the Capitol's _pets_, where food and finance are mostly viewed in being sufficient and even affluent, the huge number of population, after doing the math, made it barely enough for everyone, or at least people living further away from the city circle, the key of the district where the square and _the mountain _is located. I looked at mom as she tried to slice through the hardened, leftover-for-a-few-weeks-cheese and offered my help, whisking her away to get herself dressed. Parade is in the noon, where I'll be required to withstand a few hours of fake celebrating and enjoying the ridiculousness in everything and hide my gruesome and loathsome feelings towards, not just the Victor, but actually the _whole thing_. "Enjoy the Games," our escort always said, followed with a somewhat sarcastic "You can be the next Victor" to end the reaping session. Well speak for yourself. Dare say "you can be victors" to the two unfortunates chosen ones to which I'm quite sure she knows only one can win.

I finished off with slicing the cheese quickly and chewed off a few small dice quickly and gobbled a few bread—this could be called as a form of indulgence, comparing this living style to normal ones, unless some random person from our district got the luck to win the Games, then it would be a year of merely better living. I strode into my room, still stuffing a last bit of fruit piece into my mouth and saw mom coming out with her worn-under-important-events red dress. I smiled at her dazzling, despite emaciated face and got myself dressed.

Never look forward for a nice life in District 2. Maybe we are presented as the stone quarry of Panem, though _insiders _are perfectly sure that this is where the Capitol recruits Peacekeepers. Well… _recruits under tyranny _might be better than simply _recruit_. You see, as I said, not everyone lives a good life in here, especially when the merchants get the most money and controls the market in the district, normal civilians like us have no power over what we buy and how much they cost, leading to a miserable, poor life around. Though for one thing: if you are willing to be a Peacekeeper, the Capitol would afford you a teeny bit of money and food for in order to complement one's _bold, courageous sacrifice for the Country_. And that's how my father made his way into the career. Not much had I known of him, as he left to help us when I was 8, and after 8 or 9 years of mind lost in time… I really can't remember much, apart from how he perfectly concealed the truth in intending to help the family despite of costing himself, pretending to laugh with us, dine with us, joke about the Peacekeepers with us… Until he left that night. Food was scarce that time, and all I knew was this: I can survive with food for a few weeks. But I can _never, ever _live without my dad for a lifetime.

Mom called once again, and I hastily got dressed, and walked left our small house to have an hour walk to the city circle. Mother and me. Just the two of us.


	2. District Two and What I Found There

**Disclaimer+Author's Note: **I don't own the Hunger Games Trilogy even though it's a great series. Though I'd say I own my personal creation extended from it. And I'm somehow sorry for the little late update as I trifled among a rule and resulted in being banned. Well, everything has its first, just don't commit the same mistake twice. Oh and I guarantee you that I'd start to get lazy weeks later and have longer update hiatuses, though my lameness for my chapter names remain. I'm never good in naming chapters, stories and making summaries. That's me. :) Oh last but not the least, enjoy and please review. Thanks for all the favorites and follows, love you all.

Time ticked by as the Parade went on. An excruciating three hours of babbling on how remorseful she was for the Games, though how it made her tougher, stronger and more of an adversity-facer… How does that even deserve waves of applause? Pretending to be sorry was bad enough, and now talking about how the Games should go on in order to teach everyone a lesson of treasuring basically everything we have? That's simply the uttermost absurd thing I've ever heard, I'd say.

Unlike me, mom learned to develop over the years. She survived the seven years of abhorrer, under the shadows of being reaped. Though there's always the coerced broadcasting, Parades and the Reaping itself that tormented her. Watching twenty three young, innocent souls perishing in the Arena because for the Capitol's joy isn't appetizing. Perhaps for those wealthy ones, the Freaks we call them privately since occasional television programs featuring the Capitol often showcases how weird and extravagantly beautiful to a point of making people sick they are. A braid down there, a shirt and a pair of trousers is fine for me. Lion whiskers? Eagle hair style? A shirt than screams 'I'm a big fluffy red fur ball' to nationwide cats? Seriously? Can they even spend their money, time and intelligence, if they got any, to anything else better? Anyway, the Freaks seem to enjoy the Games. Though I assure you, watching your best friend going into the arena two years ago and ending up with a close-shot of her getting a saw hacked in the neck is _not _a pretty sight, and neither is witnessing how brutal she got when she repeatedly smashing another tribute's head on the tree trunk.

As I said, mom always knew what to do. When to force herself to cheer in the market when a random guy is slashed into two halves by a District Two, or keeping everything to herself when she was at home, trying her best not to sob over the dead and suppressing urges for an uprising. "Rebels under pure tyranny never work," says she. I may not know the full definition of _tyranny_, but it must be bad and forcing. At least I use the word once in a while to describe forceful actions. And this simple sentence of hers molded me. Stay calm, follow the crowd, and throw on a poker face to everything. After all, the Capitol had taken my best friend. What else can it take? Might as well take my life.

…

I admit. I was never categorized into the 'beautiful' slot. Plain, but perhaps not able to truly tempt anyone. I don't really mind being a loner at school, 6-hours of here-I-come-and-here-I-leave routine works for me, though I was never easily put at ease. Constantly people seemed to be talking behind my back, discussing on whatever tiny bit I accidentally revealed in school. As time went on, I started to realize how much I missed all I've lost to the Capitol: father and best friend. And yet… Maybe that's what _tyranny _is…

Some days, after school, I would take a walk to the City Circle to check on people, or see do they need help. I've helped people sorting goods, delivering boxes and mostly chopping ingredients for stuff to make. Here's a good thing about Two's City Circle market: they are kind of open, trusting people to really help them. Bring up a chat or two, talk about the weather, spill the beans about school, praise Panem and the glory President Snow gave us. As I slice the fish, cutting vegetables around or taking care of new arrived sheep and pigs, that's what people talk about. I simply view them as a test of how well I can remain solitude, creating a barrier from myself to the outside world. So far so good.

If there's a shop I _really _envied in the City Circle, it would be an old, ruddy kitchenware shop. Why the kitchenware? Not generally everything from there. I'm not a fan of kettles or cutleries, which is mostly what they sell, but more of the _knives_ there. To me, I've always loved knives. Not for anything bloody or violent, it must not be, but the thought of how handy it is and how much it helped humankind over the years gave an attraction towards it. We can cut things with it, cook with it (even under rare circumstances), self-defense (under extremely rare circumstances for this) and in my mind, obtaining a knife seems to be giving me a tiny bit of authority in rebelling against the system. Panem doesn't allow weapons. Bows and arrows, guns, grenades (I don't know what it is, though I heard people say that from the Mountain area)… Once discovered, treason it is. Despite so, the Country still affords people in acquiring basic life-materials. Fire there is, also knives and axes… The point is, getting a somewhat can be put into offensive use thing is like finding a loophole in the Country's law and challenging Panem. And I don't deny the fact that I go well with a knife. And perhaps it's this reason that made me wanting to have a personal knife all along… After all, it doesn't really go straight towards killing with a blade. Though maybe a bit of power and self-confidence over something. And that something, might just be your life.


End file.
